as I drew the curtains wide
while still rubbing the sleep out of my eye,
I took notice of the sky,
There stood before the making of paint and lines
Mixing elegantly, beauty so sublimed,
yet it was beauty in the making,
so quick out of bed like children on Christmas morning,
I grabbed my tripod and camera while yawning,
dash quickly I did as I headed up the valley,
as the sun drew its brush to paint the sky,
with blue and red and hints of blend.
Finally the master was complete as I clicked the shutters away,
Not caring for the desire of coffee I pressed on endlessly.
And for my troubles I gained this.
